


Make Me Forget Him

by mee4ever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Riding Crops, Self-Destruction, Sex Toys, Whipping, this is literally just draco wanting to forget about the world ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: “Are you asking for Purple rules tonight, Draco, darling?”Draco wants to shake his head, tell him “no”, he just wants Theo to fuck him, so he can leave, but he nods. “Yes,” he says. “I need you." He repeats, "Make me forget him.”Or the one where Theo makes Draco forget all about his heart ache.





	Make Me Forget Him

**Author's Note:**

> I blame everything on [Lovi](https://crybabydraco.tumblr.com/).

Draco drops down on Theo's front steps, breath still in his throat, heart beating fast. He hadn't thought, just apparated. Now, he only stays because he knows Theo can get him to think about nothing but him. He knocks. Tries to breathe regularly, tries to calm down, but when the door swings gracefully open, Theo only has to give him one look to know exactly what is going on. 

“Draco,” Theo says, and the word is syrup and lemon all in one like he’s pleased that he’s come here, but annoyed by the reason. Draco doesn’t blame him. Had he had a little bit more of a spine, Draco wouldn’t have come at all. 

“Make me forget him,” Draco says, confesses. He licks his lips, drags a hand over his hair, it probably already looks like shit. He wishes he would’ve at least made himself presentable. Now, Theo will just find him begging before they’ve even started. Theo crosses his arms. Leans against the door frame. He doesn’t invite Draco in, which just proves further that this is going to be worse than it could’ve been, but Draco knows this will probably also leave him more lost in forgetfulness. 

“Why would I want Golden Boy’s scraps?” It is not the first time he’s asked, it will surely not be the last. Draco shrugs and looks down. 

“I’ll do anything,” he mumbles. 

There’s a grin in Theo’s words when he says, “Come again?” 

Draco repeats himself, louder, yet somehow with even less heat. 

“Draco,” Theo says again, and this time, it’s all a demand. Draco bites his teeth together, he doesn’t want to do this, but he wants it. Wants to forget. He forces himself to look up, meet Theo’s cold gaze, see his wicked grin. 

“Please, master,” Draco says faintly. Theo’s smirk turns ever broader, he lets his hands down, and he cocks his head. 

“Are you asking for Purple rules tonight, Draco, darling?” 

Draco wants to shake his head, tell him “no”, he just wants Theo to fuck him, so he can leave, but he nods. “Yes,” he says. “I need you." He repeats, "Make me forget him.” 

“Well, then,” Theo says and reaches out to slide his fingers underneath Draco’s already loosened tie, crook his fingers through the loop, and tugs him forward. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we, puppet?” 

Draco’s stripped and tied up strappado before he’s even recognizing what’s going on. He’s leaning forward too much for comfort, his shoulders strain, and they’ve already started to hurt, but the pain is welcome. It makes Draco think about it, rather than anything else. He’s got his feet bound, his eyes covered. Theo waltzes around the room, shoes discarded, so it’s almost impossible for Draco to hear where he is. It’s as frightening as it is intriguing. 

“Have you been bad?” Theo asks. And Draco knows how this is supposed to go. He’s supposed to say “yes”, ask for forgiveness, apologize, he’s supposed to be punished for it. 

“No,” he says, because he knows if he does Theo will be angry about it, and Draco wants Theo as angry as he possibly can. 

“ _ No _ ?” Theo says, and Draco can hear the edge, the edge he wants to push closer to. 

“No,” Draco says again, defiantly. “I’ve done nothing bad.”

“You lying little cunt,” Theo says. He’s moving around, his voice coming from different directions every time. Draco tries to follow, but he’s too caught up. 

“You’re a lying cunt,” he says, and he feels a scared surge in his entire body at that. He’s contradicted Theo before, but never called him anything, never turned his words against him. He’s hoping it’ll be worth it. 

It starts with a huff. It’s not surprised, per se, it is almost disguised as amusement. But, “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into, you filth?” Theo asks then, and it’s a growl, he’s not even trying to hide how the rage has started to boil. 

“I don’t care,” Draco says. 

Theo’s just by Draco’s ear, making him jump, when he whispers in his ear, “Oh, but you will.” He’s moving away from Draco again, and with a quick flick of his wand, he must extend a whip because the sound flying through the air leaves Draco twisting and anticipating pain. “You’re going to wish,” Theo promises, “that you didn’t even come here tonight.” He’s just behind Draco, so close Draco can feel his body heat, and he puts the cold leather of the whip down on Draco’s spine, slithering it around enough so that Draco arches and tries to get away from it. He wants to show Draco what he’s going to get. He takes it away, leaving Draco bobbing his head. “You’re going to wish, that you’ve never even heard my name.” 

“Fuck you.” He hears the rap before it hits him. He strains against his tied hands, shoulders dangerously close to popping, and then the whip connects to his back, and he cries out. 

“Oh, now, gonna cry?” Theo asks, mockingly sliding the whip over Draco’s back, from handle to end. Draco breathes, hard, bending his head backwards. 

“Fuck,” he says and exhales, “ _ you.”  _ The leather barely leaves his spine before it snaps down across his thighs. Draco stops breathing for a couple of seconds, letting the pain course straight through him, make him dizzy. 

“Think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Theo asks, and he whips down before Draco’s even got a chance to answer. Draco keens, sobs, the x on his back stinging unmercifully. “You’re going to regret ever opening you mouth to me, you hear me?” And another rap across his thighs, higher up this time. Draco screams. Short and shocked. 

“I’m sorry,” he whines, leaning down so hard on his shoulder he thinks maybe he’ll give himself permanent damage. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care. He’ll ache tomorrow, the day after, next week too, he’ll be reminded of this again, and that is all worth it. It’ll keep everything else away.

Theo steps away. “You’re going to be so sorry.” Then there’s quiet. Only Draco’s sobbing and the bounds squeak as Draco leans against them. It is quiet so long, Draco wonders if Theo maybe have left him.

“M-master?” Draco croaks. 

From in front of him, Theo’s voice sounds chill. “The only thing that should come out of that mouth is apologies.”

Draco is almost hyperventilating. “Master, please-” The whip hits him across his back and down over his bum. The rap is white hot, searing. Involuntarily, Draco pulls his feet forward, and it makes him lose his balance. Before he has the time to spin and break his arms, Theo’s there, catching him. Draco doesn’t feel like he’s doing it out of kindness, but because he’s not done with Draco yet. “I’m sorry,” Draco exclaims, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You’re a clumsy bitch,” Theo says and pushes Draco up on his feet again, fingers digging, nails cutting. 

“Yes,” Draco agrees, “I’m sorry, so clumsy.” He sucks his lip into his mouth, slobbering saliva, crying. Theo whips his wand through the air, it makes a quiet whoosh, and when Draco can feel it on his skin the next time, it’s shorter, sturdier. Draco knows it’s now a crop. “Please,” he says and it’s just as much a plea for forgiveness as it is for Theo to use the tool on him. Theo raps him on his upper arm. Twice, three times, before switching arm and repeating the motion. Draco gasps and gasps, yelps and yelps. 

“Have you been bad?”

This time, Draco swallows, then nods. “Yes,” he says, “I’ve been so bad, shit, I’m sorry, master, please.” 

Theo swipes the crop end over Draco’s back, like a promise. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes, master, I’m sorry, forgive me,” Draco pleads, his voice rough. He gets swatted at the side of his bum, several times, the skin quickly growing agitated. Draco breathes but there’s not enough air. He sobs as much as he apologizes; Theo doesn’t stop. For a second, “nox” flies through Draco’s mind, and it almost reaches his lips, but he pushes it back, he takes another two raps before Theo eases up and steps back again. He lets Draco catch his breath.

“You had enough yet, bitch?” 

“I have,” Draco says, “I’m going to be good, I promise. Master, please.” 

Theo hits him over the back of his thighs before saying, “You’ve had enough when I say you’ve had enough.” 

Draco whines. “Yes, of course, master, forgive me.” 

Theo whips his wand again, and when he places the tip of it on Draco’s spine again, it is nothing but a wand. One of his hands sneaks up around Draco’s thigh, and he grabs onto Draco’s balls, squeezing too hard. Draco gasps, his cock fills out further than it already has. Then Theo’s wand starts leaking. It’s a rush of cold over his spine, his back, and soon it runs down his arse, drips over his thighs. 

“You feel dirty now?” Theo asks. 

“I am dirty,” Draco says, and it pleases Theo enough for a slight chuckle. 

“Yes, you are, puppet,” he says. The wand must be discarded because Theo still keeps one hand around Draco’s more sensitive bits, when he dips his other into the mess on Draco’s back. He flattens his palm, pulls it back up then flattens it again. When he moves it then, he does so towards Draco’s arse, fingers kept connected to Draco’s back. The lubricant stings on his broken skin, but Theo’s hand gliding easily makes him forget about the pain. Theo lets go of him in favour of pushing his cheeks apart, spreading him open for one of his wet fingers to nudge his entrance. Draco pushes back into it, craving more, but it hurts his arms even further. They’re starting to really ache now, and Draco’s starting to lose feeling in his hands. He doesn’t care. Theo knows how to keep track of time, Draco’s not going give in early. Moaning, both from annoyance and from need, Draco starts to beg him to give him more. 

Theo fingers him not for pleasure, but to get him open and ready. With his voice laced with sounds, Draco’s desperate pleas don't go unheard. Theo gives him more, harder, fucks him with two long fingers. Draco’s eyes waters from pain in his arms, pleasure mixing in, and Draco doesn’t think about  _ him  _ then, and he doesn’t think about anything else either. He’s dizzy, hard. He wants nothing more than to get fucked and he tries to get Theo to do it. But Theo laughs. 

“You really think I’d put my cock in you?” he asks, and Draco cries, pleads for him to do so. “Wouldn’t think so, you dirty whore.” Draco gasps,  _ please, please, please,  _ and for a moment he wishes the whip was back so Theo could hit him again, really tell him off for wanting that. 

Then Theo takes his fingers away. “See, Draco, I’m not one to lower myself to…” He pauses as if he’s thinking about it. “To your standards, really, which is why I’m not going to fuck you. Oh, you can cry and beg however much you want, it won’t change the fact.” Draco hears him walking up around him, and he stops in front of Draco. Draco, blabbering, cautiously shuts up when Theo puts a hand in his hair. “Open up.” Draco swallows, breathes in deep, wishes he could see (and then realises half the thrill lay in not being able to), and parts his lips. “This, Draco, darling, is what I’ll be fucking you with.” 

He gives Draco just a second before he slowly and deliberately slips the toy into Draco’s mouth. It’s cold like glass on Draco’s tongue, or maybe it’s metal; it’s wet with tasteless lube. It fits his mouth, but just barely. And Theo pushes it in, further and further, and Draco tries his best to take it, but soon enough he gags. He strains against his bonds even if he loves it, loves it. Theo holds his head down and makes sure the whole toy is in before he quickly removes it. Draco hulks a couple of times, coughs, then breathes harshly. He physically cannot wait to get fucked, he needs it now, now. 

“Please,” he says. “Master, please, I beg you.” He bends his head upwards, and even though he cannot see, he knows Theo is looking down at him, smirking, because that’s what he always does. 

“Again.” 

“Please.” 

“Again.”

“Master,  _ please.”  _ Draco hears him move away, and is not given time to ponder it further before Theo gives him what he wants. In one gut-punching go, Theo pushes the entire of the toy inside of Draco. Draco cries out, unable to get away, yet not really wanting to. It burns, it hurts, it’s amazing. Sobbing and moaning, Draco sways as much as he dares to get the toy deeper inside him, and Theo starts moving it. Out until only the tip is still inside, and then in again till it's fully lodged inside Draco’s arse. After the initial thrust, Theo goes slow, works up his speed. Draco feels everything too intensely, it hurts so bad, his arse and his arms, but it’s so good. 

Draco moans and screams his voice raw. Theo doesn’t care for any sound that he does; only fucks him like he wants to fuck him. Brings him right up on the edge without touch and fucks him just slow enough not to make him come. And Draco begs, begs, for release, while Theo spanks him and fucks him more vigorously every time he does. Draco doesn’t care to stop because makes him feel so powerless, makes him feel used and meaningless and it’s just  _ right _ . 

When Draco gives up, when he leans down against his bonds, cries, and just takes it, that’s when Theo wraps a wet hand around his cock and brings him to climax in no time. 

As from another room, there’s an alarm. He can faintly hear Theo say something about being right on time, but the meaning of the words flies right over Draco’s head. He doesn’t notice when Theo removes the toy, but he whines when Theo releases his arms. Then he can barely feel them once he got them safely tucked between his own and Theo’s chests. The blindfold comes off, but Draco doesn’t notice because he’s got his eyes closed anyway. He doesn’t open them simply because he’s forgotten how to. Theo flattens a hand over his hair, pulls him up into a bridal carry, and then Draco disconnects from reality. 

It’s a safe haven. A bubble in which he floats, where he cannot think nor speak, where he smiles for no reason. Draco doesn’t smile for any reason, so it’s a nice change. He simmers forever because here he doesn’t know what time is other than still. It’s comfort. Relaxing. Draco wants to stay. 

He drips back to the real world one sense out of time. The first is smell: it is freesia flowers, cotton, warmth, clean. Safe. Second is taste, and it’s the faint one of blood. He must’ve churned his teeth on the inside of his cheek and when he drags his tongue around, sure enough, he finds the source. He swallows, and his hearing is back. Theo’s not snoring, per se, but he is definitely not awake. Draco blinks his eyes open. Theo’s bedroom comes slowly into focus, everything painted gray and blue with evening outside the window. The duvet is pulled up to just under Draco’s chin and suddenly he can feel everything. Theo’s hot chest and stomach is pressed to Draco’s back, his arm fastened securely around Draco’s middle, his breath in Draco’s hair, the soft sheets against his side, the duvet on top of him. He swallows, overwhelmed, and he stirs.

Theo wakes, he inhales sharply. “Welcome back,” he says, voice hoarse. His fingers immediately start rubbing over Draco’s breastbone and Draco falls back into the touch, soothed. There’s no point in trying to talk, that part of him has surely not come back yet. “You did well,” Theo continues. “I’ve never seen you like that before.” Draco can barely remember what had happened, at least not right now. It will come back to him eventually, though. He only hums. “Looked so good, I had to get myself off in the shower once I’d gotten you into bed.” Theo presses up against him, but it isn’t with any real intent. Draco presses back, and it makes Theo groan slightly. “So good, Draco, so good.” 

“I needed it,” Draco says before he’s even realised that he’s thought about speaking. 

“It appears so,” Theo says simply. He’s quiet for a beat before he settles on adding, “And I will be here every time he makes you need it.” 

Draco clenches his jaw. “What makes you say that.” It’s not really a question, it’s more of a “shut up”. 

Theo doesn’t read it right. “He’s never going to love you like you want him to,” he says. 

Draco can’t even put heat into the word when he says, “Stop.” 

“I’m just saying-”

“Nox.” 

And Theo snaps his mouth closed, doesn’t continue. Neither does he apologize, but he doesn't have to. As long as he shuts the fuck up, Draco doesn’t care. 


End file.
